


Seasons Greetings from Avengers Tower

by raanve



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: DECFANFIC, Gen, Team Fluff, holiday floof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-02-27 21:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 5,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2707376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raanve/pseuds/raanve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of vignettes, drabbles, etc for the December Fanfic Challenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ice Skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team goes ice skating at Rockefeller Center, and even Bruce manages to enjoy himself.

The ice skating outing is Pepper's idea. This, in and of itself, is not surprising to Bruce. Out of all the people he's come to be friends over the last two years, Pepper is definitely the one most likely to ask everyone to put on a holiday sweater and go ice skating at Rockefeller Plaza. (Doubly so if she can figure out a way to turn it into a PR opportunity for the Avengers and Stark Industries.)

What _is_ surprising to Bruce is that the idea's biggest booster is Natasha. She is not the sort to get giddy about things, but she is damn near giddy about a potential group outing for ice skating. And once Natasha's on board, Clint's agitating for matching ugly Christmas sweaters and Thor is asking Steve to give him ice skating lessons and Steve is deferring to Tony because he never got to ice skate much as a kid due to one thing or another and Hill is offering to step in for both Tony and Steve -- and even Rhodey, of all people, is nagging at Bruce to say that he'll come along.

The thing is, Bruce isn't really into this idea of frou frou holiday togetherness. As much as he's glad for the friendship of these people (and most of them have indeed become his friends), as much as they've gelled as a team -- as much as they have even started feeling like family to one another, Bruce's initial impulse is to think of this whole thing as some sort of semi-crass marketing ploy.

Which, honestly, isn't like Pepper at all. Pepper's a genuine person, and she's shown Bruce a good deal of care since everything went down, for which Bruce is grateful. (And of course, the notion that it might be a good PR moment is just Pepper multitasking, being good at her job, and he certainly doesn't begrudge her that.) But his knee jerk response is to brush the whole thing off as if that's all it is, good press, some good pics for the glossies, or whatever. He guesses that's unfair, but there you go.

It's Natasha's enthusiasm that wins him over in the end -- she's like the proverbial kid at Christmas, and once she's got everybody on her side, the peer pressure around the whole ice skating thing is incredible. He holds out for a while, but Natasha comes into his lab pretty late one night - turning up at his elbow, silently, the way that she does, her hands behind her back and that quirk of a smile that on somebody like Tony would be an all-out troublemaking grin.

"You've got to stop sneaking up on people, Ms. Romanov," Bruce says, wryly, glancing at her before turning back to his work.

"Wouldn't want to put me out of a job, would you?"

"No, ma'am, I would not. What've you got there?"

"Turn around and see." We he turns, finally, she's staring at him, challenging him almost. "Got you a present."

"Little early for presents, yeah?"

"Not for this one."

She has a gift bag behind her back - a sort of weirdly bulky one - and she holds it out to him.

Bruce takes it, and pulls out an obviously custom-made sweater... the threatened "ugly Christmas sweater" that Clint's been going on and on about, as if they were some kind of grand holiday tradition dating back generations. It's purple -- it's obviously meant for Clint himself, seeing as all the snowflakes are made of arrows.

"You got the wrong one," Bruce says, and Nastaha's grin quirks even more.

"Nope. Figured Clint could wear the green monstrosity he was trying to inflict on you. You can wear this tasteful number."

Bruce can't help but laugh.

"Bonus?" Natasha says, "Clint looks _terrible_ in green."

He does go -- they all do -- and it is fun. They show up at Rockefeller Center with just a little advance warning, and the place is packed. Bruce is a terrible skater, but he manages, and he doesn't even fall on his ass or have to cling to the wall. Steve does fall, but just once, and only because he and Sam and Rhodey get a little too into their game of chasing each other around the ice. Thor is, as always, strangely graceful for someone so huge and unearthly who claims to have never ice skated before. Pepper skates as if she had lessons all her life, right down to graceful twirls and direction changes, and Bruce cannot say that he's surprised by this. Tony has taken this as an opportunity to work out some new sort of repulsor tech (in addition to mugging for the cameras) and Clint is harassing him about both of those things -- Clint's a clumsy skater, but he gets by, and Bruce suspects the 'clumsy' thing is just an act anyway. Natasha drifts around the rink serenely, as good at this as she is at apparently everything else in the universe, and Bruce has to admit she's a joy to watch -- calming, somehow. Soothing.

There are lots of really excited kids, and lots of photographs taken, and afterwards there's hot chocolate and hot chocolate vouchers for everyone there, and by the time they get back to the tower, Pepper is cajoling Bruce into admitting out loud that he had a good time.

''Course he did," says Clint, "He's the one that got to look halfway decent -- my sweater suits you, Banner."

"You think?" Bruce asks, gamely.

"We should go ice skating more often," says Natasha, quietly. She's already curled up in her preferred chair with a glass of wine.

Bruce looks at her for a long moment, and at last he says, "Yeah. We should."

"Holiday outing tradition," says Tony from the bar, "Done deal."


	2. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pranks are good - pranks that involve kissing, even better.

Darcy's standing on the island in the center of the kitchen when Thor comes into the room and scares the shit out of her by booming, "Friend Darcy!" Thor generally has two volume settings -- stand-too-close-to-you low volume and god-damnit-why-are-you-so-loud booming volume. The booming is for the happy stuff.

Darcy curses, keeps her balance through an act of God (though not this god), and says, "Friend Thor!" It's hard to be mad at Thor, much the same way it's hard to be mad at a puppy.

"What are you doing up there?" Thor grins up at her, though to be honest he doesn't have to look up -too- much, considering how stupidly tall he is. "That is the Hawk's place, is it not?"

"I'm hanging mistletoe," she says, reaching up again to give it one more try. If she's able, she means to hang it so that it's sort of just over the sink-slash-minibar area. "It's a tradition thing."

"You need not explain this one to me," Thor grins, "We have this in Asgard as well."

"Really?" She stops again, looking down at him, "That's a first."

"How do you think this tradition began on Midgard?" His grin has that twinkly thing that is obviously the reason that Jane likes him so much. (Aside from, like, literally every other thing about him, but most especially the way he looks with his shirt off. She guesses.) Thor says, "Let me help."

Darcy lets him give her a boost, and as she's finally hanging it Thor says, "Why here? One of the doorways would be more suitable."

"Nope," says Darcy, "People are gonna forget it's here, and everyone has to use the sink. It'll be great."

He sets her carefully on the floor and then gives her a firm kiss on the cheek, "It is a good plan."

"I know," Darcy grins, "But you're supposed to kiss people on the mouth."

He raises an eyebrow.

"You know," Darcy says, "Traditionally."

"You're very clever."

She nods sagely, and he laughs before he gives her a chaste peck on the lips. Which, you know, is good enough.

They spend the rest of the afternoon sitting around eating popcorn and talking. Every time someone goes to rinse out a mug or grab a snack and finds themselves at the sink, Darcy points up at the mistletoe and Thor offers to kiss them, and not a single person turns him down.


	3. Watching holiday specials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve Rogers is pretty predictable

There is a long, long list of references that Steve doesn't get. This is something that he knows (he's all too aware of it, usually) and something that he's working on, often with help from the team. From his friends. It's possible to pick stuff up just from moving in the world -- catching up by osmosis or something like that -- but every now and then he finds he wants somebody to just sit him down and _show_ him something, explain things, let him into the club. Which is how they all end up crowded together in the common room, lights dimmed, cocoa and snacks all around, watching a marathon of "absolutely essential" (according to Jane) holiday television specials. 

Steve likes the Rudolph one the best. These characters who know that they're capable of something more, something other than what everyone has been telling them -- Hermey just wants a chance to do the thing he knows he'll be good at. And that whole Island of Misfit Toys thing, that hits him where he lives. 

Later that night -- much later, almost everyone's gone off to bed -- Steve and Jane are still up, sitting on opposite ends of the couch and talking quietly about it. Steve's saying he knows it's stupidly obvious that he'd identify with these characters the most, but what can he say? It gets to him, anyway. And Jane says, "Steve, that's what they're for. That's why we watch them, even when we spend all that time going on about how corny it all is." 

And he nods, thinking about it. It's nice, that particular kind of nostalgia. He doesn't much like to linger on nostalgia, but it has its moments. "Songs are catchy, too, though" he says, and Jane laughs.


	4. A snowball fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint Barton will usually win, in the end.

Because of course Tony Stark would build a snowball-fight machine. Clint wishes he could say that he'd never heard of anything more ridiculous, but -- he can't actually say that, because it makes perfect sense. 

If anyone's going to build a machine that: 

a. somehow generates snow  
b. turns that snow into snowballs  
c. uses a highly advanced targeting system to aim those snowballs at his friends  
d. makes this process effectively infinite

Well. Let's face it. That person would be Anthony Edward Stark. 

Clint, though -- Clint is pretty convinced that all this tech will not, in fact, save Tony from taking a few decent snowball hits. Because the machine is (for now) stationary. And Clint Barton is most definitely not.

He lets Tony have his moment of glory -- the snowball fight machine all set up on that sweeping Avengers Tower balcony-walkway-thing, shooting snowballs all over the damn place both inside and out. (It's a miracle there aren't more broken windows, not that Stark cares.) He has to give Tony credit for not programming the thing to keep himself off-limits. They're all flying or running or leaping around, dodging snowballs that come in at a speed that is _just_ hard enough to sting but not hard enough to really hurt anybody, and they're all getting pretty well pelted. Tony is laughing non-stop; he's laughing so much that he actually has to land, which earns him about another nine snowballs to the head and chest -- but of course he's in the suit so it hardly matters.

Clint, from his final vantage point in a window about a story up, decides that he's gonna make sure that Stark gets his when there's no suit to take the hit for him.

It takes several days of planning, as well as Natasha doing something or other to J.A.R.V.I.S. to make sure that Tony doesn't hear him coming. But eventually, Pepper's away for the night on business and Tony says he's going to turn in early, and Clint is on the ledge outside Tony's window, cooler full of snowballs, waiting. Patiently.

Watching Tony Stark take several snowballs to the face (lightly-packed snowballs - Clint is not a monster) as he comes out of the bathroom on his way to bed? Entirely worth all the trouble.


	5. Overly bundled up for the weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint Barton usually wins -- except for those times that he doesn't.

"It just feels like a lot of clothes," he says, plucking at the slightly puffy sleeve of the down jacket.

"Clint," Natasha says, "It's a coat."

"I mean, it's bulky. It's in my way."

"There's a windchill of about fifteen below. You can't go sleeveless."

"I don't see anybody _else_ having to put all this on."

Natasha doesn't sigh -- because she just doesn't -- but she doesn't have to for Clint to know she's sighing. And rolling her eyes. That flat look is the Natasha equivalent of both of those things at once. 

"Steve is a super-soldier. Thor is an alien. You are a man."

Clint says, "Yeah, but Tony--"

"Is in a climate controlled metal suit that flies. He'd probably make you one, if you asked very nicely."

Clint says, "Yeah, but you--"

"Don't you worry about me. Zip up."

"It's stupid to wear all this," he tries again. "They're expecting me to shoot, and I can't even choose my own gear?"

Natasha reaches out and zips up the jacket, swiftly. No fuss. "Then take it off when I'm not looking." 

There are going to be cameras, is the thing. If this were a mission, a regular mission, none of this would be an issue. Instead, it's a holiday special TV appearance, at night, in mid-December. So, okay, maybe he needs long sleeves. And fine - he's got this scarf, which looks festive. And sure, why not, there's a Santa hat. (The hat, he likes.) But the coat? The red, puffy coat is a step too far.

"Yeah right," Clint mutters, "Like I'd ever get away with that."

She smiles, sweetly. "You can try."


	6. Planning the Family Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's invited.

Pepper is running down the list on her tablet, stylus in hand, counting. 

"When you say everyone," Darcy asks, "What do you mean, exactly?"

"I mean everyone," says Pepper. 

" _Everyone_ everyone? Or just like... everyone."

Pepper doesn't look up; she's gotten used to working with Darcy over the last year or so. She likes it, in a way. Nobody would've guessed it, probably, but they work well together -- after all, when you're used to working with Tony working with almost anybody else starts to seem simple. After she's done going through the list [for probably, like, the _fourth_ time, thinks Darcy], Pepper says, "Everyone who's family. This looks good, Darcy, thank you."

To be honest, it is a lot of people to plan a dinner for, but Pepper's glad to do it. She likes that the team feels like family, and she thinks it's been good for everyone. Not least for Tony. For herself. Even when it's tricky, or difficult, or involves replacing lots of broken windows (and walls, and furniture), it's good. This is the first holiday dinner they're planning as a _family_ , and she wants it to be.... not perfect, because family dinners are never perfect, but _good_. 

Pepper's doing most of the work herself, though she's delegated certain things out to certain people. Darcy is in charge of invitations and RSVPs. Clint is doing the decorating -- because he insisted, mainly, and Pepper has decided to let it go and trust him on this one. Tony's figured out some ridiculous system for getting the bots to help serve food and take up plates. (Pepper expects that at least three people will end up with food in their laps, and people have been appropriately warned.) Natasha is helping with dessert and Bruce has agreed to slice the turkey. Rhodey and Happy are in charge of before-dinner drinks, and Phil for arranging champagne for after dinner toasts.People who might want to give those toasts -- Steve, Sam, Nick maybe, Darcy and Thor for sure -- have been given notice that they'd better be ready to go. (And Pepper expects even more impromptu toasts, besides, because goodness knows there's more than one in the group who can't pass up an opportunity to talk.) J.A.R.V.I.S., of course, is on duty for lights and dinner music.

It's going to be nice. It's going to be nice in a way that Pepper hasn't had in a while. The table is going to be way too long, there's going to be too much food, and she fully expects that the dinner-party atmosphere she's setting up will probably end up being something a lot more loose and informal (and hopefully without the kind of food throwing they had at Thanksgiving.) 

And everyone will be there. _Everyone_ everyone.


	7. Putting Up Stockings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hung by the chimney with care

Sam's a little surprised, actually, that there's enough room on the mantle for all of them. It's a lot of stockings, especially since Tony insists that the bots all get theirs -- "Look," Tony says, more forcefully than really seems warranted, "They had 'em last year. They're here now. The stockings go up." 

He wasn't even sure where the stockings had come from, but "Pepper and Tony (but mostly Pepper)" was a pretty good guess, all things considered. They were all well made and personalized - carefully done needlepoint, and definitely big enough to hold a decent amount of candy. Not that Sam was expecting candy. Except, you know, he was.

They spend some time bickering about what order they should go up in, and eventually Hill steps in and declares that they'll go in alphabetical order. Rhodey had suggested ordering them by military rank, which got him lots of eyerolls, and Thor had gotten really excited when Natasha suggested arm wrestling as a means of sorting things out, until Bruce pointed out that certain people had certain unfair advantages.

So. Alphabetical order it is. Sam and Steve sit back on the sofa watching Tony and Pepper hang them, under supervision from Hill. Tony tries, once or twice, to sneak his to a more prominent spot, and Pepper moves it back as needed. In the end, they're all set out, a long, colorful line, and Sam has to admit that it's a nice feeling, seeing his there in among the others. One huge team, bots included.


	8. Decorating the Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You actually can see it from a mile away.

It's enormous, as far as Christmas trees go. It's sitting smack in the center of the grand glass wall of the main common room, and you can actually see it from about a mile out. (Tony knows because he tested it.) The tree is aglow with blue and gold LEDs, and a bright, arc-reactor-colored star at the top. It is -- to be perfectly frank -- an achievement. You know. Like most things he puts his hand to.

Tony's convinced that it's perfect as is. He should've figured, though, that the rest of the team might have other opinions. He flies back in from Cambridge the evening after he's finished setting it all up to find the whole gang standing around it, discussing the fact that there aren't any ornaments, per se.

"I don't know," Banner is saying, shrugging and cleaning his glasses, "I just kind of think there should be ornaments, is all."

"It's not like it's wanting for more," Steve replies, dryly, "There's enough lights on it that you could see it from space."

Tony saunters in, heading for the bar, "A mile out, actually. But thanks for the compliment, Cap."

"Oh," says Steve, shooting a flat look at Bruce, "Only a mile."

"Lights aren't ornaments," Bruce responds, mildly.

"Dr Banner has a point." That's Clint, who -- strangely enough -- is not actually perched _on_ the bar.

Natasha is reading a magazine, or seeming to, and she doesn't say anything.

"Lights aren't ornaments," Tony agrees, dropping onto the couch, careful not to spill his drink. "But I like it the way that it is. Where is everybody? I thought we were doing a thing tonight. Didn't somebody say we had a thing?"

"There's a thing," Natasha agrees, turning a page. "They're bringing the stuff up, now."

"What stuff?"

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see," she shifts, and props her feet up in his lap.

Steve and Bruce go on arguing, good-naturedly, about how much is too much, and Tony is surprised to hear that in Bruce's book, anyway, there's not really any such thing as "too much" on a Christmas tree. Steve seems to be arguing that less flashy is just sort of somehow generally better, at which point Tony reminds him again about the spangles, and Steve laughs and musses Tony's hair in that way that he -hates-, and by that time, most everybody else is filing in with assorted boxes. Lots of them.

"I just thought," says Pepper, as she starts to unpack an ungodly amount of Christmas ornaments and tinsel, "That everybody should have some of what they like on the tree."

"What about minimalism?" Tony interjects, "What about those of us that appreciate _minimalism_? Hm?"

"That," says Bruce, unwinding tinsel garland, "Is the most ridiculous thing I've heard today."

"There is no way that what you had going up to now was _minimalist_ ," says Pepper, fondly.

"Minimalism is a defined term, you know," puts in Steve. He is, at this moment, sticking fake birds on the upper branches, under Natasha's guidance from the couch. 

Tony sighs, looking put upon, and raises his glass. "Fine. Have your fun. I am clearly outnumbered here."

And in the end, it sort of does look better. It's still bright enough to be seen a mile away, even under all the other _stuff_. It's ridiculous, to be sure, but it's ... warmer, somehow. Nicer. Not that Tony intends to admit this out loud to anyone.


	9. Ruining the Holiday Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which burnt rolls are thrown

"You know," says Pepper, casually, as she scrapes the burnt dressing out of the bottom of the roasting pan, "I have to admit that if I were to pick anybody to screw up dinner this badly, I would've gone with--"

"Don't say it," says Clint.

She says it, smiling sweetly at him. "Clint. I would have said it'd be Clint."

The only reason Clint doesn't toss a roll (also burnt) at her is because she's Pepper. Pepper knows this. She uses this to her utmost benefit -- Steve's watched it happen (and it is impressive).

Steve sighs, "Yeah, well..."

"I know," Pepper says, elbowing him gently, "Been a little while since you made a holiday feast."

"I used to cook all the time," Steve says. "But, you know, got out of the habit."

Tony, sitting next to Clint, chimes in. "Probably fewer opportunities to cook a full meal inside an ice floe."

"No kidding," Clint says. 

Steve turns and lobs a roll at each of them -- one two, just like that -- and Steve doesn't miss.


	10. Hot chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The secret to coziness

Natasha likes it best when it's thick, dark chocolate, a little spicy, with heavy cream. She has the perfect cocoa mug -- perfect because it fits neatly and comfortably in her hand, because she can wrap both hands around it, and also because it has Hello Kitty in a Santa hat on it. She likes to take her perfect mug and go curl up the the corner of the couch in the downstairs common room, the room that branches off to many of their suites, and where they usually have movie nights. Sometimes she cozies up in the chenille throw, and sometimes she doesn't. Usually she curls up and reads, but sometimes she just sits there with her cocoa, breathing in the delicious steam and listening to the lives going on around her. 

It doesn't matter if there are people in the room with her or not -- she can read, either way. She is not distractible. It doesn't matter if there is an epic popcorn fight about to break out (or underway, so long as nothing lands in her mug or spills her cocoa). It doesn't even matter if Steve and Bruce and Tony and Clint are having one of their board game nights. (They play for blood, no matter the game. Monopoly tends to be the ugliest, but Scrabble produces the loudest arguments. Trivial Pursuit has been banned, pretty much by universal agreement.) 

In fact, she almost prefers for there to be some kind of noise happening right in the room. She would not have guessed it, really, but she feels cozy and at home in the presence of these people. Relaxed and warm. It's nice. It's especially nice with hot chocolate. She curls up, and she reads, and she feels the presence of her team, this family, all around her, and it's the sort of thing that she would not have planned on having happen, which makes it all the better.


	11. Secret Santa Gift Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's always that one gift...

Pepper does not often have to admit to mistakes, though she has no trouble doing so when necessary. Unfortunately, it has become clear that this is one of those times.

The whole team, with a few notable exceptions, is squabbling (loudly) in the common room. They are arguing, primarily, about the rules of the exchange. The "Secret Santa" (Pepper has actually dubbed it the "Holiday Spirit") gift exchange. The rules of the gift exchange are rather convoluted -- Bruce helped her think them up, and they are a lot more like rules for _Dungeons and Dragons_ than a holiday gift exchange among friends and/or co-workers. The point is, that there is no shortage of rules, and Pepper had been reasonably sure she'd accounted for every potential question -- but what she hadn't counted on was a gift set including a high quality (for certain definitions of "quality") Slanket, a gift card for ebooks, and an enormous cocoa mug. The central object of dissent is the Slanket. In that it's a piece of "official" Avengers merchandise, and absolutely everyone wants it. Nevermind the fact that they _all_ could have one, if they simply asked. (Apparently, they did not previously know such a Slanket existed, which Pepper supposes isn't surprising.) 

There are a few key arguments going around, and these appear to be as follows:

\- Tony very much wants the Slanket, but can't be swayed (for once) to simply buy his own.  
\- Clint also wants to take this particular gift home, and has spent the last twenty minutes trying to find the rules loophole that will allow him to take it.  
\- Thor is the current holder of the Slanket (though as per the rules of the game, he was able to 'steal' it from Tony, who 'stole' it from Clint) but it seems that Thor himself is too large to comfortably (or reasonably) use it.  
\- Rhodey is (as ever) trying to talk Tony down.  
\- Jane is arguing for Thor to have it, quite possibly because she'll be the one who uses it most if that's how things sort out.  
\- Bruce and Steve are not about to stand for a mid-game change of the rules.  
\- Hill can't believe that everyone's making such a big fuss about a Snuggie. ["IT'S NOT A SNUGGIE," shout Tony and Clint in unison.]  
\- Darcy likes to stir people up, and will do so at every possible opportunity, though it's probable that she also would like to own the Slanket.

Sam and Natasha and sitting shoulder to shoulder on the loveseat, watching all of this occur with a mixture of amusement and wariness, as if they intend to enjoy the show while it lasts but are fully prepared to snap to and break it up, if necessary.

After about ten minutes (or possibly an eternity) of bickering, Pepper finally steps in. "We're keeping the rules as they are," she says, putting her hand on Tony's arm. "This is not the world's only Avengers-licensed wearable fleece blanket."

"Maybe not," says Tony. 

Clint chips in, "Probably the only one that matters."

"Maybe," says Pepper, "If you are all very good, who knows what might be under the tree on Christmas morning."

"We do not all celebrate the birth of Christ," says Thor, evenly.

"You've already got the damn thing," snaps Tony, just at the same moment that Darcy says, "We're talking about _secular_ Christmas."

"Maybe," Bruce says, raising his voice slightly, "We should move on."

"Fine," says Clint, going to sit on the arm of the couch next to Natasha. "But don't think this is behind us."

Pepper smiles sweetly at him, "Oh, no, of course we'd never think that."

Natasha and Sam and Maria all smile at each other. This was all pretty good but next year? Next year is going to be _great_.


	12. Unwrapping presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint & Natasha exchange gifts

Natasha is one of those people who unwraps a present with extreme care -- she doesn't break the ribbons, she slides her fingers into the seams and under the tape and carefully, cautiously extracts what's inside. Clint's even seen her set the untorn paper aside only to fold it up carefully later, in neat, shining stacks. For a while, Clint thought that maybe she was re-using the paper, but he's never seen any of it turn up at any other gift-giving opportunity. So who knows where it goes.

She does things this way regardless of who's around -- whether they're alone (as they are now) or in the company of a whole team, a crowd of co-workers. Even if it's holding everyone else up, she takes her time. She has that way of seeming to shut out everything around her, to focus wholly on one thing -- that's a thing Clint recognizes, knows. Loves.

Clint himself tears into presents, has them undone and exposed in less than two seconds flat, sometimes even with a little scrap of paper drifting down as he starts his thank-yous. There's something about the sheer joy of getting a present, of demolishing the wrapping, of tossing it aside, seeing what the thing is. He sort of wishes Natasha could teach him her way. He's starting to think there might be something to savoring every second. But he knows it's not the sort of thing someone teaches you; it's one of those things that's both who you are and how you came to be who you are, something that can't be untangled. 

So she hands him her gift and he shreds it open, taking obvious pleasure (glee, really) in the whole thing. And he hands her his present and watches her slowly, slowly find out what's inside. Clint notices things -- he's a noticer -- and so of course it isn't lost on him that part of the gift is watching the other person open it, and that they each get joy out of watching the other.


	13. Making a snowman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...or snow _men_

It's two days before Christmas and there is, at last, a really good, solid coating of snow. Bruce goes out on the balcony that morning (in his bare feet, yes) to see how well it packs. Tony catches him at it, and because Tony Stark is who he is, it's less than twenty minutes before they're in Tony's lab, trying to figure some way to augment it into the perfect snowman-making snow.

The snow as it is doesn't pack quite right -- it's Tony's opinion that this can be solved through means of applied science. Which, of course, is Tony's opinion of just about everything. Bruce is fine with this. Either he spends the morning making a snowman or he spends the morning in the lab with Tony. Either way is good.

At some point Steve comes in and asks if they're coming to dinner... which is about when Bruce realizes they've been at it for something like seven hours, rather than the forty-five minutes he was sure of. He takes his glasses off and says, "Tony, what d'you think? Dinner?"

"Dinner," Tony scoffs, "You can eat when we've got this fixed."

Steve raises an eyebrow, "Some new thing for the suit?"

Bruce shakes his head, resettling his glasses, "Not unless he's got a snow suit -- a literal snow suit -- planned that he hasn't told me about."

"Now _there's_ an idea," Tony says, standing up straight and looking at a point just to the left of Steve's face.

"Come on, Stark," Steve says, probably more affably than he really feels in the moment. 

"Okay, sure, fine," Tony heads toward them, setting things down haphazardly as he goes, "But after dinner we're testing this."

Steve gives Bruce a look -- trepidation. "Testing what?"

"A formula," Bruce smiles. "For snow."

"For snow?"

"For snow."

Tony gives Bruce a gentle shove, "For snow _men_. An army of them. A veritable horde. Let's eat so we can get back to it."

"A... horde. Of snowmen." Steve squints skeptically, and lifts both his hands, "You know what? Nevermind. I know better than to ask."


End file.
